by Terry Brooks
She saw an emerging glimmer of something very dangerous in his eyes as he spoke, and it caused her to pull back. He saw her reaction, and his eyes closed quickly. “Get out of here. Now!”
He turned away from her and pulled the bedcovers over his head. Tarsha stayed where she was for a moment longer, then reluctantly rose and slipped out the door.
* * *
—
Ajin d’Amphere was waiting in the hallway for Tarsha to emerge, leaning up against the wall, arms folded across her chest. She was wearing a night shift lent to her by one of the Rover women—a garment that was so close to transparent, she might as well not have been wearing it at all. This did not trouble her. Propriety was annoying.
When the girl finally appeared, easing from the bedchamber and carefully closing the door behind her, Ajin said, in a teasing way, “Paying someone a late-night visit?”
She watched Tarsha startle, her young face darkening momentarily as she saw Ajin. “Aren’t you supposed to be asleep, Princess?”
Ajin shrugged. “I was worried about you, wandering around by yourself. I didn’t want you getting lost.”
But the girl didn’t take the bait. “I’m going to bed. Late-night visits aren’t always such a good idea, as it turns out. But you can find that out for yourself, I imagine.”
She went down the hall with her head up and her body rigid, and Ajin knew at once she had suffered some sort of setback but was trying to make the best of it. After she had disappeared into their shared room, Ajin remained where she was for a moment, puzzling it through. Tarsha had been visiting her brother, she realized. She had tried talking to him, and her brother had turned her away. Ajin probably wasn’t supposed to know as much about this as she did, but there were those all too ready and willing to talk about this strange brother–sister relationship. She didn’t know the whole story, but she knew Tavo had been Clizia’s creature until Drisker had somehow freed him. She knew there was bad blood between them.
But none of this had to do with her. She was here for something else entirely.
She pushed off the wall and went into the sleeping chamber where Tarsha’s brother and Brecon Elessedil were sleeping, but—more important—where Darcon Leah was sleeping, too. Other young women would have thought twice about entering a room of sleeping young men in the dead of night but not Ajin. She closed the door behind her, peered around in the near darkness, spied the Blade’s long-limbed form sprawled on his bed, walked over, lifted up the covers, and climbed in next to him. As he stirred in recognition, she stretched herself out full-length and pressed up against him.
“I thought you might be lonely,” she whispered in his ear.
Dar, his back turned to her as she fitted her body to his, glanced over his shoulder in shock. “Are you crazy? What are you doing here?”
“I just told you.”
“You can’t be here!”
A furious whisper. My, my. Concerned for my virtue, no doubt. “Well, since I already am, the point is moot. I thought it would be good to spend some time alone with you—or as alone as we are likely to be for a while.”
“Ajin, you have to stop this. This whole business about somehow being fated to be together…”
She leaned in and put a finger to his lips to silence him. “I need you to understand something, Darcon Leah. I don’t know where I belong anymore. I don’t belong with the Skaar, unless I am willing to accept the house confinement assigned me by my father and the very real possibility of an assassination attempt by my stepmother following close behind. I don’t belong with the Skaar army because I have been dismissed and sent home. I don’t belong in the Four Lands—this isn’t my home, and these aren’t my people. But is Skaarsland my home anymore, when you come right down to it? Don’t you see? I don’t belong anywhere. I don’t feel right anywhere.”
She paused. “Except when I am with you. So maybe you would indulge me this once. Maybe you would consider letting me have my moment of freedom from fear and anxiety and anger. Maybe you would consent to share your space with me. How hard can that be?”
He turned slightly to stare at her. When they were face-to-face, she kissed him on the nose. “That’s more like it.”
“Ajin, I’m sorry about what’s happened to you, but that doesn’t change anything. I can’t be found with you like this. We’ll be in all sorts of trouble if that happens. Brecon could wake up at any moment. Tavo may already be awake.”
She kissed him again, this time on the mouth. “Then maybe you had better be quiet and just let this happen.”
“This? What’s this?”
She took a deep breath and exhaled. “Just a few minutes where you put your arms around me and you hold me like you care about me, and I feel like I’m not going to break down like a little girl. Because I am close to doing so, no matter how I appear.”
He stared at her. “You? Break down?”
She closed her eyes. “Please?”
She waited and was finally rewarded by the feel of his body shifting and his arms coming around her, pulling her close to him. She fitted herself against him and let her head rest on his shoulder. She felt herself drifting, contemplating the direction her life had taken, revisiting the choices she had made and the setbacks she had suffered, but remembering, too, the times shared with her soldiers and Kol—with all those she had grown up with to become who and what she was.
It was bittersweet, but lying there with the Blade, warm and secure and enclosed, she found it all bearable. Time slipped away and neither spoke. She fell asleep for a while, although she couldn’t have said for how long.
When she woke, it was still dark and Dar Leah was sleeping. She studied his finely chiseled features and kissed his perfect lips, and knew she loved him in a way she had never thought herself capable of loving anyone.
She rose then, easing from his bed—from the warmth and strength of his body, from the comfort he had given her. She was reluctant to leave, but she knew it was time. He had given her what she had hoped. She had not been wrong to come to him.
As silent as the darkness that wrapped close about her, she left the room.
FIFTEEN
MORNING ARRIVED IN A blaze of sunshine that tried its best to disguise the winter chill in the air. There was no snow this far south, but it would be heavy north of the Streleheim and in the mountains. Even so, there was frost on the ground, and when Darcon Leah found Drisker alone outside their sleeping quarters, staring off to the east, the ground was glittering as if crystallized.
The Blade came up to stand beside him, and for a few moments neither spoke. Dar was lost in thought about what had happened last night, when Ajin came to his bed. He was conflicted about how it made him feel and what it meant for the future. That he had let her stay instead of sending her away was troubling enough; she already had all the encouragement she needed just from her own misguided beliefs in faith and serendipity. Now he had added fuel to the fire by succumbing to his compassion for her situation—alone, abandoned, bereft of people and home.
Nothing had really happened, of course. That would have been a huge mistake, and the Blade was not accustomed to making mistakes of that sort. They had simply shared space and warmth and a sense of closeness that he had come to believe, at the end, might give her both hope and comfort. He could not deny he found her both attractive and fascinating. He thought her every inch his equal as a fighter, and he shared her moral compass.
But she was still the enemy, still an invader from a foreign country, and still mistaken about the connection between them.
He was not going to talk to Drisker about all this, however.
“Are you still determined that taking this machine across the Tiderace to Skaarsland is the right course of action?” he asked, breaking the silence between them.
Drisker shrugged. “I wouldn’t admit this to anyone else, but how sure can I be abo
ut anything at this point? I’m getting my information from one of the dead, so there is every reason to think I could be making a mistake. So no, I’m just making the best of the choices I have.”
“Yet you’re sending all of us off on this voyage—all but you and the Kaynin siblings. How wise is that? The assumption you’re making is that taking the machine to Skaarsland will change everything. That the machine actually can change the weather. If we ignore for a moment the other possible obstacles—weather, time, enemy intervention, and a dozen other things that could sink this whole effort—if the machine fails to do what’s needed, we’ve likely lost everything.”
“Likely. So that’s why we’re leaving today to go back to the Hadeshorn and try to find out if we are on the right track.” The Druid looked at him. “Did I forget to mention that?”
Dar gave him a look. “How long ago did you decide to do this?”
“Just this morning. I spoke with Rocan early. It seems he and Tindall were up half the night arguing about what to do. They were of two minds—the old man in favor of giving Annabelle the toughest test they could find, the Rover in favor of proceeding with more caution. Experience and stubbornness won out, so Rocan agreed to test the machine as we’ve asked. He was not too happy about it, but he calmed down a bit when I told him we would go back to the Hadeshorn for a second opinion on the matter. Just so we could all be sure that this was what the shade wanted us to do.”
“Well, I don’t mind telling you that I feel better about it. At least this way, we might be given some hint of whether or not we are on the right path.” Dar paused. “But shouldn’t you come with us on this journey? Wouldn’t we be better off if we had your skills and experience to call on?”
The Druid looked at him for a long moment, then said, “Let’s walk while we discuss this.”
They set out into the Rover village. Aperex was just beginning to wake up. Doors were opening as the villagers went off to work, smoke was rising from the chimneys as fires were heated up, and voices were calling out from within cottages and outbuildings. Already, the deep glow of the forges that shaped the metals and composites from which the builders crafted their airships was growing stronger as the day’s work got under way. In the distance, a small transport was just lifting off to fly to the northwest.
“The problem is, while I would like to come with you, I can’t,” Drisker said so softly, Dar almost missed hearing it. “My path and yours must diverge. I’m not sure for how long, but it may be for very long indeed. I am given another task, one that will keep me here in the Four Lands. Other schemes are in play, most of which will destroy any chance of resolving the difficulties the Races are facing. It is my part in this drama to stay behind either to find solutions or to keep the pot from boiling over. Clizia is at the heart of one or two of these, but there are other players, as well—some of whom you don’t even know about.”
“These are not problems you can leave behind long enough to settle on whether or not the weather machine will work?”
“No. We each have our role to play, and this one is mine. It means we will all have a hard struggle ahead of us. But at least we will all have companions and allies to stand with us.”
The Blade made a dismissive sound. “I wouldn’t put too much trust in any help you might get from the Kaynins. Tarsha, maybe. But she is linked too closely to her brother to be trusted if he goes rogue again. And he is insane, Drisker. For all that he seems ordinary enough now, he is one blink away from the madness that claimed him earlier.”
Drisker nodded. “I know the dangers. I believe I know how to handle them, and Tarsha will help me. You must have faith in her. She is much stronger than she seems.”
Dar kicked at the earth in frustration and said nothing. They walked to the edge of Aperex and stopped. For a few moments, they did not retrace their steps but merely stood there staring into the village.
“You know Clizia will try to get back into the Keep?” the Blade asked, glancing over to measure the other’s reaction.
Drisker looked back with a smile. “I certainly hope so,” he said.
* * *
—
“Just through this next stand of trees and up the hillside to the bluff,” Clizia Porse advised the Skaar squad leader.
She didn’t know his name and didn’t care to. He and nineteen of his men had been lent to her the previous morning by Cor d’Amphere, who had promised twenty-five but had changed his mind when she had appeared at his tent flaps.
Twenty men was what he claimed he could spare, and in truth it was more than enough to do what was needed. So she let the slight pass and simply made sure the squad leader knew who was in charge and what was expected of him and his soldiers. She did this with the king standing next to her so there would be no question of her authority later.
“You are not to question my orders,” she had said. “You are not to do anything I do not first tell you to do. You are to stay close to me and stay together. What we are attempting to do will not be dangerous if you obey these rules. Make sure you understand. Make certain you heed my warning.”
So far, they had. The company had flown all day, arriving at the forests surrounding Paranor by early evening, landing safely away from the Keep so that their craft would not be at risk. She did not say so, but distancing the transport was also intended to keep anyone—or anything—that still lived within the Keep ignorant of their coming. She would not risk any of them by attempting to enter through any of the exterior gates. Instead, they would use the underground passageway with which she was most familiar, and to which she knew the codes to unlock the barriers that would confront them.
They slept near the ship that night and began their trek the following morning. As Paranor came into view, she heard small gasps and mutterings from among her followers, but she ignored them. Instead, she maneuvered them away from the bluff and through the forest until they had reached the tunnel entrance, where she brought them to an uncertain halt. She gave them a few moments longer to wonder what she was about before speaking.
“From here, we go underground. A tunnel that leads to the cellars of the Keep will be our point of entry. You cannot see it yet; it is carefully concealed with magic. But I will reveal it, and you will follow me down to the tunnel, which will then lead us into Paranor. There will be no talking or stopping until I say so. Remember my warnings about what not to do—and here, especially.” She paused. “Are you ready?”
Most nodded. No one spoke. Clizia was pleased. The less they said, the better.
She gave them a demonstration of her magic, removing the concealment to the tunnel entry and releasing the locks. Once the tunnel was open, she used her magic again to fire up a line of permanent torches that lined the passageway, the brands lighting up one after the other until they disappeared from view. Summoning cold fire to the tips of her fingers—a final demonstration of what she was capable of doing—she led the way down into the darkness.
The walk was not overly long, and they completed their journey in less than twenty minutes. Once at the huge iron door that sealed the Keep, she paused again. So much depended on handling this the right way. The treasures stored within Paranor’s vaults were priceless, and she didn’t want any of these men to stumble into them by accident. So she would need to keep them with her and away from what mattered.
Her plan after that was simple enough. They would climb to the main floor of the tower, determine that all was as it should be, and then she would order them all to the outer walls to assume a watch—presumably to await the coming of Cor d’Amphere, but actually for something much more pressing.
She had no intention of sharing anything of real importance with the Skaar king, of course. She would have to admit him into the Keep in order to gain his support, but she did not have to reveal any of the magic it housed. A few odd baubles brought out as a tease, and the rest—she would claim—must have been p
ilfered away by the Druids before the Keep fell to his daughter.
But in truth, she would have used the hour or so she needed after placing her Skaar contingent at watch to come back down into the archives and retrieve and hide all the artifacts and talismans that might prove useful to her in the months and possibly years ahead. She would conceal that magic so thoroughly there would not be even the remotest possibility of anyone, save her, finding it. Drisker, after all, was still loose somewhere in the Four Lands, and he would be hunting for her. Eventually he would return here, if she failed to find and kill him first. But she did not want him retrieving the magic for his own uses any more than she wanted the Skaar king to possess it.
Of course, the possibility remained that Drisker had carried some portion of it out with him when he had escaped, but she could do nothing about that now. She simply had to hope he had been too eager to get away from his prison to risk going back in again.
She summoned her magic and released the locks on the iron door to the Keep one by one. When the last clicked free, the door swung open to admit her. With her Skaar soldiers staying close, she marched inside. To her relief, everything seemed exactly the same as when she had left it. Nor did a quick search with her magic reveal the presence of any other living creatures. The Keep, it seemed, belonged to her now.
Beckoning to those who followed, she climbed the stairs of the tower to the main floor; her senses pricked against any surprises Drisker might have left. She walked down the main hallway to the closest doors and outside. Another quick scan revealed no life out there, either.
She turned to the squad leader. “Place your men at intervals on all four outer walls where they can stand watch. If they see anyone or anything approaching, give warning. You are to come into the cellars to fetch me only if the need arises. Otherwise, I will be down there on the king’s business and need to be left alone. Do you understand me? Left alone.”